


A way back

by ShezzasCompanion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, John Watson Whump, John Whump, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, medical exams, platonic johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShezzasCompanion/pseuds/ShezzasCompanion
Summary: John was never used to people tending to him, but after being assaulted on the way home from a bar, he needs Someones help to recover.





	1. The Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic description of Rape

In hindsight, John should have paid more attention to his surroundings. He should have been vigilant and that was something he would never forgive himself for. He had just never expect it to happen to  _ him.  _

  


It was well after dark and John had spent a few hours at the bar with Greg, talking over a pint like they did every two weeks if their schedules didn't clash. It was a ritual John looked forward too, and one that he would probably not partake in for sometime if he ever did It again. 

  


“I best get going.” John stated as he looked down at his watch. It was a quarter to ten and he had an early shift at the clinic in the morning and if he stayed any longer, he certainly wasn't going to make it.

  


“Alright John” Greg stated as he tipped his half full pint at him. “I'll talk to you later yeah?” 

  


John nodded as he stood from the booth and placed his part of the tab on the table before making his way to the door. 

  


The cold air rushed up to meet him as he pushed open the glass door and stepped outside. The change in temperature was enough to make him shiver but not enough to drive him back inside to ask Greg for a ride. Baker Street wasn't too far away, a brisk ten minute walk at best

  


John huffed as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and began his journey home. 

  


He paid no attention as he went, therefore he didn't notice the figure that came up behind him, quietly following him. Until it was too late. 

  


The figure behind John closed the distance between them without the doctor knowing. 

  


In the blink of an eye, a hand clasped over John’s mouth while an arm wrapped around his waist. John froze a fingers dug into his flesh. He pulled against the grip on his body only to find resistance. 

  


John began to struggle as the stranger began to pull him towards the alley he had just passed. But the alcohol in his system made him slow and clumsy. 

  


“I'm surprised Sherlock let his pet roam at this hour.” a voice purred into his ear as he was turned into The dark alley. It was a familiar voice, one he wouldn't forget that of Jim Moriarty. 

  


John began to struggle harder, in an attempt to wiggle free only to be greeted by a cool chuckle on his ear.  

  


"I see why he likes you."Jim murmured in John's ear as he pushed him against the wall. "I'd like you too if I were him. You're feisty.”

  


John's heart pounded against his ribs as Jim pressed him harder against the wall with his own body. He should have stayed home, he shouldn't have gone out drinking. 

  


John tried to push himself away from the wall, only to find Jim digging his shoulder into John’s back. 

  


“I don't think so, I'm far from done yet Jonny.” Jim stated nearly cheerfully “I hardly come out to play...but I do enjoy getting my hands dirty for this.” 

  


John gulped and he continued to push himself against Jim's shoulder but it was no use. The Irishman had all of his weight pressed between John's shoulders. 

  


“Tell me Johnny boy, is he any good in bed? Or is he the same all around?” Jim questioned. “Perhaps you need a comparison…”

  


It took a moment for Jim's words to sink in _ a comparison  _ and John began his struggle anew. He pushed against the brick wall the best that He could and felt triumphant as Jim’s body gave way and stumbled back. However that triumph was short lived as Jim’s body collided with his, shoving him against the bricks. His head went forward, nose and lips grating against the rough surface as the air was pushed from his body. 

  


“And to think I was going to go easy on you!” Jim’s sing song voice was in his ear. 

  


John gasped for air, his chest ached and he felt as if He was suffocating. From behind him there was movement, but nothing he registered until his arms were tied behind his back. 

  


_ Stupid so stupid I should have paid attention! _

  


Hands roamed over his back and down his sides as he leaned against the brick wall catching his breath. 

  


“Is he this gentle Johnny?” 

  


“S-Stop.” John wheezed as he felt Jim's hands on his belt, tugging the leather from the loop. 

  


“S-Stop...please” 

  


His plea fell on deaf ears as his belt fell open and Jim began to unbutton his jeans while unzipping his fly. 

  


John's body was tense as Jim's hand slid inside his jeans, brushing against his soft cock before giving it a harsh squeeze. 

  


“This not doing It for you Pet?”

  


“No...just stop. Please” John begged and the hand down his jeans withdrew. John exhaled harshly and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. Perhaps Jim would let him…

  


The thought died as fingers hooked themselves under the waistband of his pants, pulling them and his jeans down in one fluid movement. 

  


The cold air against his warm skin made him shiver and tense once again. 

  


“I don't usually like to get my hands dirty...but I make an exception once in awhile.” Jim's voice had changed, more like he was commenting on himself then talking to John. 

  


Jim's hands grabbed a handful of John's supple flesh, kneading his arse cheeks. 

  


“No wonder why he keeps you all to himself” Jim was smirking as he parted John's cheeks before releasing his flesh. 

  


John yelped in surprise as a finger began to prod at his puckered hole, pushing against the tight muscle to gain entrance. A groan escaped his lips as the finger slipped inside him. 

  


John closed his eyes, willing this top end as Jim worked him open by shoving another finger inside his tight hole. The fingers moved in and out of His body in an attempt to loosen the muscle. 

  


John  grunted in discomfort as he was fingered open. The lack of lubricant made It rough and uncomfortable and when the fingers were removed he was overcome by a sense of relief. 

  


The sound of rustling fabric came from behind him and the sound of a zipper being pulled down made his stomach churn. 

  


The doctor turned towards the mouth of the alley and made a move to escape while his assailant was preoccupied, however, it was useless. 

  


John's body was slammed against the wall by a hand that had grabbed him by the back of his neck. The side of his face scraping against the brick. 

  


“I don't think so Johnny boy.” Jim’s voice was steady and cold as he spoke. The hand that was not on his neck grasped his hip, pulling him harshly until he was nearly bent over, the side of his face burning as it was scraped against the brick.  “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.”

  


John screwed his eyes shut as he felt something hot and hard press against his hole, silently he told himself that it wouldn’t be that bad, the pain would be something he could brush off…

John’s eyes flew open and a scream erupted from his lips as white hot pain shot up his spine as Jim thrust into him without warning. 

  


It felt as if He was being torn in half. 

  


Jim hardly waited for John's body to get accustom to the intrusion before he pulled out and thrust back in, tearing another agonizing scream from John. 

  


“O-oh God...pl-please stop.” John groaned in pain as Jim moved in and out of his body. 

  


He would do anything to get this to stop. 

  


“What's the matter? Isn't he this rough with you?” the feeling of Jim's warm breath against his neck made his stomach roll. The only reply he could give was a whimper of pain. 

  


The hands holding onto the back of his neck and hip gripped him tighter as Jim began to thrust into him harder, faster. Leaving John groaning and whimpering as Jim's hips slammed into his own. He wanted nothing more than this to end. For someone, anyone walking by the alley to intervene and save him from his torment. But he knew that would never happen. 

  


It wasn't long before Jim's thrusts became erratic and the hand on John's neck moved to grasp his other hip as the thrusts became more punishing. 

  


Jim's thrust faltered before he buried himself deep inside John's body as he came, causing John to scream in pain. 

  


John closed his eyes as his stomach rolled. He couldn't stand the feel of Jim's skin against his or the feeling of Jim still  _ in _ him. 

  


A gasp escaped his lips as Jim pulled out followed by the sensation of something (blood, ejaculate) dripping down his thighs.

  


John slumped against the wall and slid down to the ground as Jim released him to tuck himself back into his trousers.  his legs weak and unable to support him. 

  


“looks like you had a rough time Johnny boy.” Jim taunted  from above him. The glee in his voice evident. “Do give my love to Sherlock, if you see him.” 

  


John laid as still as Jim retreated into the shadows of the alley, leaving him bound, half naked, and alone.  

  


It seemed like forever before John began to move, working to at least pull his jeans up by one of the loops to cover himself partially. 

  


John knew he couldn't just lay among the boxes and trash near him. He had to get up,  had to get home. He needed help. 


	2. Found

It seemed like forever before John began to move, working to at least pull his jeans up by one of the loops to cover himself partially.

 

John knew he couldn't just lay among the boxes and trash near him. He had to get up,  had to get home. He needed help.

  


It took some effort for John to hike his jeans up high enough for him to fish his mobile from his pocket.

 

He fumbled with it until he could hear  distinct ringing, and after a few presses of his finger he managed to turn on the speaker. He just hoped that he had called someone who could help.

 

“Hello, John?” the sound of Greg’s voice filtered through the speaker and into the dark silent alley. “what’s up?”

 

"G-Greg...." Johns voice came out hoarse from the screaming he had done.   
  
"John what's wrong?" Greg's tone carried concern.   
  
"I...I need help." The last word came out so quietly he wasn't sure Greg had heard him.   
  
"Where are you? What happened?"   
  
God what was he supposed to tell him? How was he supposed to tell Greg that he had just been raped?

 

“I'm in an alley...close the bar I  think I-I'm not sure”

 

“John what happened?”

 

"C-Can you come get me? Please?" John asked, avoiding Greg's question on purpose. He couldn't tell him, he bring himself to say it.   
  
There was silence at the other send for a moment and John's heart plummeted.   
  
"Yeah, I'll come get you mate. " Greg answered and John could hear the faint sound if a chair scrapping against the floor. "Stay on the line with me Alright?"   
  
"I-Alright." John's voice came out hoarse and he closed his eyes for a moment.   
  
"I need you to talk to me John, what do you see from where you are?"   
  
John managed to turn himself slightly to look out of the mouth of the alleyway.   
  
"A tea shop...and a small store I think...I can't really tell..."   
  
"Its alright John, I'll find you. I promise."  there was a sincere tone to Greg's voice and John had no choice but to believe him.   
  
He had hoped that Greg had brought his car, instead of walked, he had no idea which method his friend was using to find him however. He didn't hear a car start, hell he didn't even hear Greg leave the bar.   
  
It had to be shock, it had to be setting in by now.   
  
"I-I think I see a car across the way..."   
  
Greg had been sitting at the table he and John had been sharing a fee drinks at, finishing the Coke he had ordered when his phone rang.   
  
He wasn't sure who he expected to call him at this hour, perhaps his boss, or Sally, or maybe even his ex wife. But he certainly wasn't expecting to see John Watson's number flash across the screen.   
  
John had left nearly an hour and a half before why would he be calling now?   
  
Greg knew something was wrong immediately by the sound of John's voice. It was distant and hoarse.   
  
Panic began to rise in the pit of his stomach the more John talked and the more he avoided his question about what happened.

 

"Yeah I'll come and Get you mate." Greg had answers after sitting in silence for a moment. He had taken no time to stand from the table, throwing a few bills on its surface to cover the tab before heading out into the cool London air.   
  
He wasn't certain about what John was hiding from him, but he had figured it would be best if he took his car to look for the blonde. Just in case he had to rush him to the hospital.   
  
"Stay on the line with me alright?"  
  
"I-alright" John's voice was hoarse as he spoke, making Greg panic that much more. He had never heard his voice sound like that.   
  
"I need you to talk to me John, what do you see from where you are?" there was an urgency to his voice. He needed to know. What John saw would be the best way to find him.   
  
At the mention of the tea shop, Greg had an inkling as to where John was, considering there was only one between the pub and Baker Street.   
  
"I think I see a car across the way..." John had mumbled and Greg knew that John must see him as he pulled in front of the tea shop.   
  
Greg didn't bother to shut off the car as he slid out of the driver's seat, sprinting across the road to the alley.   
  
"I-I see you."   
  
Greg hung up his phone as he entered the shadows of the alley as he withdrew the  torch from his pocket.   
  
"John?" he called as he clicked on the light, using it to scan along the debris.   
  
"Greg....over here." John called and Greg lifted his light to see a figure lying on the ground less than ten feet away from him.   
  
The officer rushed to John's side, the light in hand illuminating his friends body.   
  
Greg could see the state of undress he was in and as he knelt down next to him, there was a hint of copper in the air.   
  
"John" he breathed and the blonde looked up at him. One side of his face scratched, most likely caused by the brick building. Blood had trickled down his face from his nose and there were tear tracks down his cheeks.   
  
"M-my hands are tied." John mumbled and Greg moved slightly to dig the pen knife he had in his pocket to cut off the rope binding him.   
  
As he pulled the rope away from John's wrists he noticed how low John's jeans where.   
  
"Lets sit you up." Greg stated as he changed gears.  John nodded slowly as Greg moved to slip an arm under John's shoulders and began helped him to sit up.   
  
A sob escaped John's lip as he sat up slightly, his body slumping against Greg's, his head resting against Greg's shoulder.   
  
"I-I'm sorry." John sobbed against Greg's shoulder. "I-I didn't know who else to call."

"It's alright John. You did the right thing."  
  
"No...it's not alright...I..I....was."   
  
"It's alright John. You don't have to tell me. I know. " how could he not? The ties wrists, marks to his face? Undressed below the waist, the smell of blood. John didn't need to tell him. He was an officer, he had seen rape victims before

 

A low sob escaped John's lips as he grabbed a handful of Greg's shirt.  Tears cascading down his face. Of course Greg would know just by seeing him.

Greg was an officer, he had seen people like him before.   
  
"We need to get you to the hospital." Greg stated as he gently touched John's side.   
  
"I don't know if I can walk, I don't even know if I can stand."   
  
Greg went quiet for a moment.   
  
"I want you to throw your arm around my neck"   
  
John did as instructed as Greg moved his other arm around John's waist. Gently the silver haired man helped him to stand. There was the shuffling of fabric as Greg pulled his jeans up above his hips.

John took a step, whimpering as pain shot up his spine.   
  
Before he could say anything, Greg had scooped him up in his arms.   
  
In any other situation, John would have refused to be carried like a small child, however he didn't have it in him to argue. Not as Greg began to walk back to his car.   
  
Greg moved As quick as he could without jostling John as he went.   
  
Perhaps he should have called the paramedics or maybe Sherlock. But that was the farthest thing from his mind as he opened the door to the back seat of his car and placed the man in his arms on the seat as gently as he could before sliding back into the drivers seat.   
  
Even before his door was shut completely, Greg was speeding down the street to the hospital 


	3. Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johns Examination

Greg sat on the hard plastic chair in the A&E. his shoulders hunched and his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. It had been an hour since he had brought John in after finding him in the alleyway, though it seemed to be longer than that. 

It would be even longer before he could go back and see John. 

 

He had worked on Sexual assault cases before, when he was a making his way through the ranks. He knew that it could take a few hours before the examination and collection of evidence was complete. 

 

Greg Just wished they would have let him go into the back with John, So he knew that he wasn’t alone. That Greg didn’t just drop him off and leave. 

 

“Sir?” 

 

Greg jumped at the voice and sat up straight as he opened his eyes, looking around to make sure that the woman was indeed talking to him. 

 

“Mr. Watson is asking for you.”

 

It takes a moment for Greg’s mind to process the words before he nods his head and pushes himself to stand. Slowly he follows the nurse behind the black double doors and down a long hall to the examination room where John is at. 

 

He pays no attention to the brown paper bags that are standing inside of a box near the door, nor does he pay attention to the instruments on the metal surgical tray that is near John’s legs as he enters the room. Instead Greg focuses on John’s face. 

 

John’s eyes are closed and he is facing the ceiling. The scratches on his face have been cleaned and a bright white bandage is covering the graze. He appears to be sleeping, but Greg knows better. He can see the tension in John’s body, and as he steps closer to the bed, he can see John’s hand clenching the sheet that is covering his body. 

 

“Hey” Greg says softly and John's eyes snap open as he turns his head to look at Greg before turning his gaze to the nurse that had followed Greg inside. 

 

John says nothing, instead he reaches out to grab a fist full of Greg’s shirt to pull him closer to the bed. 

 

Greg obliges, stepping closer to the gurney, standing with his side pressed up against the bed as stirrups are placed at the end of the bed. He reaches out and places a hand on top of the hand holding tightly onto his shirt as John’s legs are lifted so that they may rest on the instruments at the end of the bed. However, Greg pays no attention to the happening behind him, instead, he focuses on John’s face, the pain in his eyes and the humiliation written on his face as the internal examination began. 

* * *

  
  


John had asked for Greg to come back during the last part of his examination. He wanted someone he knew there as some stranger began his internal exam. Though he wasn't certain if Greg would still be there. 

 

He asked the nurse to get Greg anyway. 

 

John had waited with his eyes closed until he heard Greg’s voice greet him. He said nothing to the silver haired man, instead he reached out to grasp the material of his shirt for the second time that night, pulling him closer to the bed. He focused on Greg’s shirt as they lifted his legs onto the stirrups, he focused on the warm hand on top of his as he whimpered in discomfort as they collected evidence. Most of all, He focused on the soft words Greg spoke as they stitched him up before slowly placing his legs back on the bed. 

 

John kept his hand wrapped in the fabric of Greg’s shirt as the officer turned to the nurse, telling her who to hand the kit over to. He refused to release the fabric as they moved him to another room, though Greg didn’t say a word, instead he moved with him, keeping his hand gently over John’s as they went. 

 

John didn’t release his hold on the officer until the pain medication he had been given began to kick in and he drifted off to sleep. 


	4. nightmare

_ There is a  hand t on his neck and one  grasped his hip, pulling him harshly until he was nearly bent over, the side of his face burning as it was scraped against the brick.   _

 

_ “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.” _

 

_ John screws his eyes shut as he felt something hot and hard press against his hole, silently he told himself that it wouldn’t be that bad, the pain would be something he could brush off… _

_ John’s eyes flew open and a scream erupted from his lips as white hot pain shot up his spine as Jim thrust into him without warning. _

 

_ It felt as if He was being torn in half. _ _   
_ __   
John bolts up, behind him, the monitors are beeping wildly as he gasps for air, looking around until his eyes fall on Greg who has moved to sit on the edge of his bed, his hand on top of John's which are clamped around the hospital issued bedding.

 

It was a nightmare

 

Just a nightmare.    
  
"Its alright John. Take a deep breath." Greg says as he runs his thumb over John's knuckles. "You're safe now."    
  
John's eyes dart across the room looking for Jim, but finds it empty. Safe. He’s safe. Just a nightmare. Greg is there. He stayed with him. Greg.   
  
John nods as he takes a breath, leaning forward until his head us against Greg's shoulder.    
  
"I'm sorry” John mutters into Greg’s coat as he closes his eyes. He focuses on the thumb gently caressing the back of his hand and the warmth he feels under his head that comes from Greg’s body. He uses it to ground himself. 

 

Greg doesn’t say anything and John is thankful for it, he doesn’t think that he could handle it if he had. 

 

John gently pushes himself away from Greg’s shoulder to lean against his pillows. He winces as he shifts himself slightly, pain racing up his spine from the movement. If Greg notices the wince, he doesn’t say anything. 

  
The hand on top of his lingers for a moment before Greg pulls away and sits back on the chair. Its then John notices how close it is to the bed and the fact Greg must have moved it there. Judging from the distance, he could reach out and touch him. The thought is comforting. Its enough to ease his mind, enough so he can drift back off to sleep. He doesn’t realize that his hand is holding onto the cuff of Greg’s shirt. 


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of his mobile vibrating against his nightstand startled Sherlock awake and it took a few seconds for his sleep muddled mind to realize what was making the buzzing noise.

With a huff the brunette reached for the device and looked at the screen, deciding whether or not he should answer it.

It was Lestrade. Perhaps it was a case or something at least interesting.

He slid the answer icon across the screen to answer it.

"Sherlock." Greg's voice came over the receiver before he had managed to greet him.

"Sherlock."Greg repeated. "John's been hurt and I need you to bring some of his clothes to the hospital. I'll send you the address."

Greg hung up before He had a chance to speak. Sherlock laid there for a moment, his brain processing that the inspector had just said. John had been hurt. He didn't even notice that the doctor didn't arrive home last night. He had figured John snuck in early, after he had gone to bed.

With quick movements, Sherlock threw back the covers and slipped from his bed. He didn't bother throwing on his dressing gown as he went to retrieve clothes to take to John.

Greg stared at his phone, waiting for Sherlock to call back, but he was thankful the younger man never did. He didn't want to explain to him what had happened, it wasn't his place to.

The detective shifted in his chair, watching his friend as he still slept. He had thought about going to get John's clothes himself, but he would still have to answer questions and that meant he had to leave John alone.

That was something Greg didn't want to do. He didn't want John to wake up in the hospital alone.

Not to mention John still had a hold of one of Greg's sleeves and It didn't feel right to wake him up.

Greg flipped his phone open and sent the address of the hospital to Sherlock before stuffing it inside of his suit jacket.

He offered a smile to the nurse as she came to check John's vitals.

"He should be ready to go in a few hours. Just waiting for the doctor to come in and sign off on his discharge orders and get his prescriptions ready." the woman explains softly as to not wake the soldier in the bed. The woman have Greg a soft pat on the arm before she left to finish her rounds.

John woke up slowly. The bed in which he laid on was not his own and uncomfortable and as he opened his eyes he remembered why. Hospital. Moriarty. He had been raped. His breathing began to increase as he began to panic.

"John, John, it's alright take a deep breath." A soothing voice stated from his side. John turned and looked to find Greg sitting on the edge of the hard plastic chair still dressed in the clothes he wore last night. He must have stayed then.

The blonde nodded slowly and attempted to take a deep breath. He felt pathetic for panicking as he calmed down. It was pathetic for someone like him to panic. He refused to meet Greg's gaze, instead choosing to look at the blanket across his lap. 

"The nurse said you would be going home today " Greg stated, breaking the silence.  "I called Sherlock to bring you some clothes."

John's heart began to pound in his chest. Greg had called Sherlock? His flatmate would take one look at him and know and that was the last thing he wanted. It was bad enough that Greg knew what happened. But he didn't think he could handle Sherlock knowing. 

His hands curled into fists on the blanket, but before John could voice his disapproval, his attention was drawn to the doorway.

Sherlock stood just inside the door with a bag that undoubtedly had clean clothes for John in hand. He didn't say anything at first, instead he took in Greg and John's appearances. 

Greg appeared tired, his suit wrinkled most likely because it was now two days old and at some point he had slept in it. He hadn't gone home then. Instead he had stayed with John. Meaning he had an idea what happened and whatever that was, Greg thought it was important that he stayed. 

John wasn't as easy to read as Sherlock would have liked. The hospital gown made things difficult but by the abrasion on John's forehead and the bandages around his wrists he had been restrained and most likely knocked about the head. 

"I brought the clothes you asked for Lestrade." Sherlock voiced as he moved further in to the room. His eyes never leaving John's form. The closer he got to the bed, the more apparently some of the bruising on John's pale skin was and Sherlock saw red. It was bad enough that John had been hurt, but injured enough to need hospitalization meant it was worse then what he could currently figure out. 

As he placed the bag on the edge of the bed, Sherlock had decided he was going to make whoever had done this pay. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets to go home, Sherlock has some questions for Greg

John still refused to look at Sherlock for several moments. Instead he focused on the blanket over his legs, the feeling of Greg's shirt still in his now cramped hand. He waited for the shock or disgusted gasp from Sherlock when he finally pieced it together, but it never came. 

Slowly John brought his eyes up to take a look at Sherlock's face. He didn't find shock or disgust. Instead he found his friends face told be hard, like cold stone, and his usually vibrant eyes were cloudy with anger. Not at John, no, not at him. But at who had put him there. If he was that angry now he didn't want to know how he would be if he found out what had happened. Not that John was going to tell him. 

Sherlock shifted at the end of the bed and his features softened when he realized John was watching him. 

There were so many questions he had, what happened? Who had done this to John? Why was Lestrade there and not him? But those questions could wait for now. 

"When is he being discharged?" Sherlock asked his attention going back to Greg. 

"The nurse said a few hours, when the doctor signs off on his paper work." 

Sherlock nodded. 

"Why don't you go home Lestrade? You look tired. I can look after John from here." 

Sherlock didn't miss the tightening of Johns grip on Greg's shirt cuff at the offer. 

"I'd prefer to stay, actually." Greg replied as he turned slightly to face Sherlock. He could probably feel the fabric biting into his wrist. "I can give you guys both a ride home from here."

"I can't go home." John finally spoke, his voice soft, softer than either of the other men had heard it. "I have a shift at the clinic." 

"No, you don't. I called them before I called Sherlock. I told them you were sick." Greg stated and both Sherlock and John looked at him for a moment. 

John conceded after a moment, nodding slowly as if he knew he wasn't going to win. 

* * *

Sherlock and Greg stood outside of John's hospital room as he dressed himself with the help of one of the nurses. Sherlock found it strange that John didn't didn't just pull the curtain around his bed closed, but asked them to leave. Regardless, he found it a good moment to question the officer. 

"Why didn't you call me last night when he was brought in?" Sherlock asked, his gazed focused on the wall ahead of him. 

"I didn't think about calling anyone." The detective inspector replied. "I was more concerned about getting John help instead of calling people."

"Doesn't answer why you didn't call earlier." 

Greg sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. 

"I-I don't know. Maybe I thought you would make things worse. You aren't the most tactful person, Sherlock and the last thing John needed was someone barking orders to the nurses and asking questions that he's not ready to answer." 

Sherlock turned his head, taking in Greg's posture, anger and hurt bubbling under the surface but before he could fire off at the older man, the door to John's room opened and the nurse stepped out. 

"The two of you can go back in now." 

Sherlock turned into the room, squeezing in past the nurse who was still in the door to get to John. 

The blonde man was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in the oatmeal colored jumper and jeans Sherlock had brought. John's eyes were focused on the ground, hands clutching the mattress as if he was in pain. 

"John?" Sherlock asked 

"Don't." John crooked. His voice hoarse as if he was in pain or on the verge of tears, or even both. "Just- Don't. Not right now." 

Sherlock stood there for what seemed like an hour but it couldn't have been more than a few moments until the nurse came back with a wheel chair. 

Sherlock grabbed the paper work that Sat on the bed next to John while John pushed himself off the bed and eased himself into the wheelchair. Sherlock noticed the wince as John Sat but sat nothing. 

Greg was waiting outside the door for them and he waited until John was being wheeled out of the room to walk ahead. He would get his car and pull it around front, and once the other two men were inside he would take them home. 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The ride home was quiet, John sat in the back of Greg's car by himself, while Sherlock sat in the passenger seat by Greg. It had been the silver man's orders, ones that Sherlock wasn't too happy about, but Sherlock didn't argue when John had mumbled a soft please. Now he sat moodily next to Greg as he glared out the side window.   
  
In the back of Greg's car, John leaned his head against the window, he had angled his body in such a way that his weight was on his hip instead of his backside to ease his discomfort.   
  
From the drivers seat, Greg glanced towards the rear view mirror every few moments to check the reflection of John in the mirror.   
  
"Here you boys are" the officer announced as he pulled up to the curb in front of baker street. "Sherlock why don't you open the door while I help John out of the car?"  
  
Sherlock replied with a nod as he got out of the vehicle to open the street door while Greg got out to help John from the back seat.   
  
John winced as he sat up straight as the door opened. He refused to look at Greg as he took the other man's hands as he pushed himself from the car.   
  
John didn't trust his legs so much, they felt funny and he held on to Greg's arm as they made their way towards the flat.   
  
A sense of safety washed over John as he stepped inside the building, but he didn't let go of Greg's arm until he was able to grab the railing of the stairs.   
  
Greg waited until John had climbed half of the stair case before he turned to Sherlock who had been standing by the coat rack near the entrance.   
  
"Give him a few days before you start asking questions. If he doesn't want to answer, leave him alone. He'll tell you in his own time."  
  
"You know what happened don't you Lestrade? That's why you didn't leave." Sherlock stated more than asked as he looked the older gentleman over. There was a hint of hurt and a disappointment to his voice as he spoke."Why don't you go do your job and let me take care of John?"

Greg Stared at Sherlock for a long moment, trying to formulate a response, but ultimately decided against it. He was too tired to start an argument or to finish the one that Sherlock was attempting to start. Instead he settled for glaring at the brunet for a moment before shaking his head. 

He didn't even grace Sherlock with a goodbye as he turned and walked out of the building to his car. As he slipped inside of his vehicle, he decided that he would give them a chance to settle or at least give John a chance to rest before he called to check up on him. 

 

* * *

John didn't pay attention to the conversation between Sherlock and Greg, instead he focused on getting himself up the two flights of stairs to his room. He wanted nothing more than to retreat into his own space and isolate himself from the world and from Sherlock's analyzing gaze for awhile, at least until he had the shower he wanted, he needed, and a few hours of sleep in his own bed. 

Tension John had no idea he had melted away as he slipped inside his bedroom and locked the door behind him. He leaned a against the surface for a moment before moving father into the room. 

He moved methodically as he grabbed clean clothes before walking into the bathroom attached to his room. It wasn't used as much as the one down stairs near Sherlock's bedroom. He preferred that one most days because of the deep tub was perfect for a bath and was big enough that he could stretch out and sink down into the water. But today, that was the last thing he wanted, using that bath meant going down stairs to face Sherlock, and he couldn't do that yet. 

John refused to look at himself in the mirror as he stripped of his clothes, He could see the bruises well enough as he undressed that he didn't want to see what they looked like reflected back at him. He tried to ignore the pain as he stepped over the rim of the tub and into the shower.  The shower sprang to life as he turned on the water, cold water splashed across his body before the hot water made it up the pipes. He stood under the hot stream of water for a few moments before he reached for the soap and began to scrub at his skin. He scrubbed at his skin until it was red and raw, he tried to scrub away the feeling of Moriarty's hands on his body and his breath on his neck. But no matter how much he scrubbed at his body, he couldn't get rid of the feeling. 

As the water began to go cold, he threw the flannel at the shower wall as a low sob escaped his throat. He had hoped the shower would make him feel clean, but it did nothing to get rid of the fact he felt dirty and tainted.


End file.
